Threats from Abroad
by SageQuill25
Summary: A costly peace has settled over Berk. With Drago's army defeated one would think things would settle down for Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, but the life of a chief is never that easy, especially with the looming threat of invasion from a foreign power the likes of which Vikings have yet to witness. *Based in a hybrid between the books and the movie with a little historical fiction


"Centurion, I suggest adjusting course three degrees starboard. That fog doesn't bode well," the Optio intoned warily, eyeing the rising wall of grey with barely contained nervousness.

Decius couldn't rightly blame the young officer for such an outward show of fear. Their mission in the God forsaken sea they found themselves in was highly irregular to say the least. Who would have thought the Legate would be so superstitious as to actually believe the tales told by Saxon captives? Dragons? What utter nonsense. And even more unbelievable were the fables of a tribe of barbarians who had tamed the beasts. These were tales to be believed by children, not the leader of the Britanian Expeditionary Legion. And here he was, newly appointed Centurion on his first command to scout the situation, though he was doubtful that any 'situation' really existed.

"Very good, Optio," was all Decius replied. After all, he knew very little about sailing. Just one more reason for the Fifth Cohort to distrust his ability to lead them. Why he was appointed to lead these men was less a mystery than the more gossip hungry men would believe. He spoke no less than five different languages, one of them being Icelandic and several other northern Germanic dialects, common languages among the islands east of Britania. His mission was to find these so-called 'dragon masters' and treat with them under the guise of mutual cooperation and possible trade agreements, all the while assessing their military strength for future occupation attempts. The second obvious reason for his promotion was that for all his education he was without a powerful family to back him and was therefore expendable. Sending a scion of an influential house on what might be considered a wasteful and dangerous mission would have consequences for the Legate back in Rome.

So here he found himself, one-hundred and twenty miles due east of Britania in the middle of nowhere, looking for a tribe of barbarians that may or may not exist, with no guarantee of hostility and less than two-hundred men, most of whom were sailors, with which to carry out his orders.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Decius turned to the portal leading below deck when a cry came from the bow of the ship.

"Nine degrees off the port bow! Just below the sun!" shouted the sentry, sending any free hand to port in a frenzy to see what had been spotted. "Three shadows, too large for birds!"

"For God's sake..." Decius grumbled to himself, "The glorious Roman Legion's been reduced to old women and superstitious country bumpkins..."

It was easy to see the talk of dragons had effected his men into actually believing they were going to find fire-breathing serpents descending on them from on high. The very thought of it brought a scowl of disdain to the Centurion's features. Nevertheless, it was better to error on the side of caution.

"Optio, the looking-glass," he ordered crisply, extending a hand without taking his eyes off the specs on the horizon. He felt the cool bronze of the spyglass in his palm and brought it up to his eye, trying to keep the glare of the rising sun from blinding him.

Just as the sentry had said, three shadows stood out just below the morning sun heading out of the fog bank. He couldn't, however, make out just what the blobs were. In all likelihood they were gulls or some other large bird. Decius had to repress a shudder when he realized just how far out at sea they were. Maybe there was a small island nearby shrouded somewhere in the mist.

"Decius, sir...?"

The Centurion ignored the breach in protocol, too focused on the task at hand. The shadows were becoming obscured as they flew higher against the backdrop of the sun, and he had to look away from the blinding glare before it gave his vision spots.

"Sir, to quarters?" the Optio asked shakily, clearly assuming the worst.

Decius was about to tell his junior officer to stow it when the cold chill returned, causing the Centurion to bite his tongue. What if he was wrong? He turned to his subordinate stiffly.

"...To quarters, archers on deck," he ordered almost silently.

The Optio echoed his order sharply to all the men on board, shouting down into the galley for wickers of arrows to be brought on deck.

In less than a minute archers stood at the ready, their first arrows notched and awaiting his command. He held his hand up for silence, trying to locate any sign of the shadows.

He didn't have to wait long. Only minutes had ticked by when the dark silhouettes appeared from the sun and took several passes above the galley, circling like vultures.

Decius couldn't hold back a gasp of horror before it escaped his lips. They were like nothing he'd ever seen, all scales and teeth, each one larger than a full-grown horse at least twice over. One had a wingspan wider than the breadth of his ship! His men had a less restrained reaction to the monsters flying above them.

"Dragons!" The cry rang out.

"Monsters!" a few more screamed as the chaos boiled over.

"Hold formation!" Decius shouted hurriedly, but it was too late. The archers loosed and broke ranks in panic, firing at will, if at all.

Arrows impacted ineffectually off the creatures scaly hide and only served to infuriate them. Roars like nothing he'd ever heard deafened the Legionaries, sending most scurrying for life rafts or shelter below deck.

The first blast of fire knocked the Centurion off his feet, concussing him against the deck of the galley. Sights and sounds mixed together as he tried to make sense of the world around him. Smoke filled his lungs and stabbed at his eyes, but he clearly saw the great winged dragon pass overhead, shearing the mast clear off and sending it into the sea.

His mind became fuzzy and he fumbled for fleeting thoughts, while the world around him became all to bright. Faintly, he felt the rush of water creeping under him, soaking through his armor and tunic. His legs became weightless and cold before the darkness took him.

* * *

Freedom.

It was the only word to describe flying.

To Hiccup it now took on even more meaning with his new responsibilities as the chief of his people. His only refuge from the day-to-day grind of meeting, planning, and decision-making was with his closest friend and nothing but the air and clouds to keep them company. Lately he'd taken to explaining his little excursions as long-range patrolling. After all, a chief was ever vigilant. At least Spitelout seemed to buy it. Astrid only gave him that knowing smile she wore so well but didn't say anything. Not that Hiccup was under the impression he could ever fool her. She seemed to know him better than he knew himself most times. His mother, however, was openly supportive of his little vacations. Most of the time she would ask to accompany him, and Hiccup could never bring himself to turn her down. But sometimes he just wanted it to be him and Toothless with nothing else to bring his mind back to the almost suffocating responsibility of being chief.

He had never been the one people looked to for decisions, advice maybe, and only concerning dragons, but deciding the fate of the entire village was something he'd always envisioned his dad doing.

The thought of his father standing tall at the head of the gathering hall's table brought a pang of sadness he was becoming all too familiar with. In his youth Hiccup had honestly thought his dad was somehow immortal, an immutable presence like a mountain, anchoring the whole of Berk around him. Now there was only a mountain sized hole left in his wake.

His uncle Spitelout had been surprisingly supportive of his new role and took on the jobs that needed a more experienced hand, all the while teaching Hiccup what he could. And there was a lot to learn. He never would have guessed just how mentally demanding being chief was, but Hiccup took to it like he did with every intellectual pursuit. The harder part was learning to deal with people. Not the "Hi, how are ya?" kind of dealing, but the clan histories both friendly and hostile. Long forgotten blood feuds that might crop up, or long-standing debts between families that needed settling. All in all, his life was slowly getting filled up. He just hoped he didn't burst under the pressure.

There was at least one thing holding it all together. Astrid. She was a constant presence at his side, keeping him sane through the most trying times of the last three months and keeping him in line with a good punch to the ribs if he needed it.

Before his mind could get lost thinking about her Toothless snapped him back to reality with a flick of his ear fins.

"Ack! What's up buddy? What I miss?" The anxious night fury gestured with his head off to the southwest. "Come on, Toothless. The only thing out that way is Helheim's Gate."

He got another slap in the face in response.

"Alright! Alright!" Hiccup stammered, wiping the stinging sensation from his face, "What's out there bud?"

His friend warbled and sniffed the air with exaggerated movements.

"Sorry bud, I don't have a dragon's sense of smell."

Toothless made a sound suspiciously like snickering and dropped into a dive, leveling off just over the water. They were so used to each others movements that Hiccup had instinctively worked the night fury's tail fin at just the right moments so as not to throw off their timing.

Moving at top speed, Hiccup soon saw what Toothless had smelled. Smoke, rising from the open sea in dark, lazy trails. It was a ship fire. Had to be.

"Take us in, Toothless. We need to look for any survivors."

With a warble of assent Toothless began gaining altitude and losing speed, picking up a search pattern over the long line of wreckage drifting through the waves.

After hours of finding nothing Hiccup was about to give up the search when a flash of light passed beneath them.

"Turn around, bud! I think we found something!" he shouted over the rising wind, bracing himself when Toothless corkscrewed down into a u-turn.

They had found something, more like someone, draped unconsciously over a piece of burned out planking.

Hiccup startled when the gale from Toothless' beating wings dislodged the waterlogged survivor from his makeshift raft, and began sinking like a stone.

"Toothless!" was all he needed to shout for the night fury to understand. They shot into the water like a gull diving for fish, emerging from the sea-foam with the survivor clasped in Toothless' legs. "Alright bud, back to Berk! Double time!"


End file.
